The VSpot
by Elessar-4-TnT
Summary: Trip/T'Pol adult. A somewhat tongue-in-cheek short fic about the differences between Vulcan and Human biology. Teeters between romance and NC17. Season 3, Post-Harbinger.


The V-Spot

Rating: R or NC-17

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek characters/names/fans' souls/etc. I call shenanigans.

AN: I wrote this in honor of someone's avatar caption as a bit of a ficlet. I also wrote this in the span of an hour, so if the writing or the mechanics aren't the greatest, don't hate me.

Set in season 3, post-Harbinger.

Prelude

**22:03**

The lighting in T'Pol's quarters was low, carried only by candlelight in place of the high-tech plasma bulbs. She found the soft illumination calming, as it had always been on her native Vulcan many years ago. She would meditate as a young girl out in the sand dunes, safe from the wild sehlats behind her family's protective energy net. But the scene in her quarters these past several months was quite different from the dunes of the Vulcan highlands in one significant respect: the presence of Charles Tucker. That ingredient electrified the atmosphere for her hormonally charged interior, even though she exuded only the calm and collected Vulcan surface. Still, she couldn't help but vividly recall the "exploration of sexuality" with her human companion, Trip, every time he touched her in the silhouetted dark. It was a thrilling, but also dear, memory to her that threatened to repeat itself every time he walked through the door.

These thoughts rushed through her mind once again as she heard the chime. She smoothed the fabric of her silken robe as she rose to allow entry to a most incorrigible temptation.

**22:31**

"The impulse manifolds will require greater maintenance under those modifications, will they not?"

Trip shook his head as he depressed the neural nodes down her spine while she lay flat on her bare stomach. The bronze skin on her back reflected the flickering candlelight and Trip paused, losing his train of thought as he crouched over her. He suddenly became self conscious about whether she could feel the hardness growing against her—

"Trip?" She startled him back to reality.

"Huh? Oh, no, no. See, that's the beauty of it, by substituting the re-aligning sequence into the injector startup routines, but cutting it short after the first back pressure cycle, the manifolds should stay free of any contaminants entering the reactor chamber. I haven't run the numbers yet, but we would get at least fifteen percent better fuel efficiency out of the impulse drive," he mused.

"An intriguing idea. Perhaps I can assist?" T'Pol asked preemptively.

"Sure, that'd be great!" Trip smiled back. Just then, she lurched, lips parting and her cheeks flushing as his fingers wandered to the incorrect placement on her back.

"Commander, lower…" he looked down to find his fingers in the wrong place.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you," he said.

"No, I am quite fine," she strained, clearing her throat as silently as possible while her blood began to pump regularly again. Her heart raced for just that fraction of a second when his wandering fingers hit the right button.

For several moments there was an awkward silence until he reached the last neural node and sat up, expecting her to follow. When she remained on her belly, he looked down at her face.

"T'Pol?" She sat up without answering, and not bothering to cover herself as her bare breasts came to face him when she turned. He visibly swallowed while attentively working to keep his eyes on hers. Inevitably, they darted downwards once or twice before he could muscle the discipline to break the cold silence.

"Uh, what's next?" T'Pol paused a moment, narrowing her eyelids as she escaped into thought and pursed her lips. She repositioned herself, lying flat on her back. Her bottom covered by the slick blue nightwear but her breasts openly swayed slightly as she lie down and cast her eyes upward at Trip, who waited for his orders.

"Apply mild pressure to the upper nodes on the pit of my ankle, starting with the left," she told him. He began, taking her guidance and making a few missteps along the way.

"Commander, may I—"

"T'Pol, would 'ya call me Trip, already?" he asked, irritably. She opened her mouth to speak and knew the words, "It is not appropriate," should come out. But they wouldn't. Her tongue refused to move, her lips refused to articulate. Her mind wandered and inexplicably settled on a certain curiosity she had been meaning to rectify. In favor of making more amicable conversation than the argument that would ensue if she insisted on calling him 'Commander', she decided to acquiesce and allow herself the vocal indulgence of tasting his nickname.

"Trip," she began. He looked up at her and smiled a tempting, control-shattering grin that rolled up slowly enough that her eyes followed the soft lips until she saw his tongue flash into his cheek. A pair of blue eyes she would never find on a Vulcan shined back at her, their icy color as provocatively tempting as the heat it stirred in her silk pajamas when he looked up at her that way.

"I require some assistance understanding something Ensign Sato said today," she informed him. He would have never guessed the topic from the professionalism in her voice.

"Sure, shoot," he grinned to himself as he worked her soft skin. He imagined that men would beg to give foot massages if they had ever touched T'Pol's firm, perfectly hairless and smooth flesh.

"She was relating a joke to Crewman Jacobs from the third shift watch, in the mess hall two days ago…"

_5 Minutes Later_

Trip stared back at her expectant brown eyes, swimming in seriousness while he digested the question. She had sat up to explain her story, Trip sitting in his Starfleet blue undershorts and under shirt. He nervously rubbed his stubbly jaw as she awaited an explanation for her query.

"Well, ah," he stammered. "The G-spot is a, uh," he found himself flushing like a thirteen year old in sex education. He cleared his throat, taking his hands off T'Pol so he could clearly articulate the words without flashes of imagery coming to mind as he imagined T'Pol finding out firsthand. Then he realized that Vulcan women probably don't even have them.

"Well, it's a… position," he gesticulated. "Well a place on a woman's body, or… in a woman's body, rather, that is a very… potent erogenous zone for, uh, stimulation. During sex," he clarified.

"It's near the uh… well it's… nevermind, it's not important where it is, after all you're Vulcan, you wouldn't…" he trailed off.

"Not that I mean to say you…" he stammered again. "Nevermind."

T'Pol analyzed his answer as if they were still talking about engine manifolds before turning her pondering gaze back on his. Her eyes changed somehow, as she pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes on him.

"That would explain some of your behavior on the night that we shared," she replied, her eyes darting away from his uneasily. Trip flushed slightly as a nervous grin came over his face.

"Uh, yeah," he chuckled in confession. "I 'spose I was thinkin' yours was around there too," he drawled back at her as she followed his eyes from her ankle all the way up her body. She became aware that her chest was rising and falling more rapidly.

"Quite fascinating, I was unaware that human women shared this characteristic with Vulcans," she replied simply. Trip's jaw dropped.

"Excuse me? You have a … a spot like that?" he asked furtively.

"Yes," she replied with a perfectly straight face, daring him further into an increasingly widening avenue of opportunity.

"And, where would it be?" he asked, flashing a Tucker grin. "You didn't saying anything about that last time," he laughed nervously, his hand resting on her thigh. He suddenly realized its presence there, and turned his eyes on it just as she did, too.

"You never asked," she told him, her voice lower than usual.

He looked up to see the recognition in her face as he quickly decided what to do. His fingertips clinched slightly, squeezing ever-so-lightly against the silken fabric to take her lean, muscular thigh into his hand for just an instant before relaxing his palm against it again. Both eyebrows flinched as T'Pol controlled her reaction to the welcome fingers only inches from where she really wanted him to touch her.

"There is a major and minor nerve ending, reachable by direct stimulation similar to neural nodes. The minor ending is present on the lower back, offset from the spinal column by approximately three centimeters. The major ending extends along the lower right torso, approximately four centimeters above the hip bone," she informed him coolly. He didn't speak but moved his fingers to her belly, testing the waters as he allowed his fingertips to graze the taut skin around her belly button as he leaned forward closer to her. His eyes never left hers the whole time, watching carefully for any sign to desist or continue. In true T'Pol fashion, she gave no hint of her pounding heart, desperately holding herself from the seizing pleasure that wracked at her as his hands tickled her belly.

When he moved up her hip bone, beginning to press lightly and carefully, she finally moved, easing herself back onto the ground slowly. While it was her explicit indication that she did not object, it had taken every ounce of her control to waiver in as dignified manner as she could.

He brushed the backs of his fingers against the trim curve of her waist in just the right spot, where tiny blonde hairs on his knuckles poked out against her flesh and caused goosebumps to prick up. She gasped in pleasure, uncontrollably allowing her head to fall back and her lips to hang open, drawing out an endless syllable of ecstasy. He dared further, moving forward and planting his hot mouth on that same patch of skin. This time it was too much for T'Pol to weather in silence and she gasped again, a soft, delicious moan escaping her lips as her eyes remained behind their lids. He sucked and kissed at her copper-toned hips, allowing his hands to roam around the rest of her torso, up to her breasts and along her sternum. Her back arched high as he tickled the spot with his bare tongue, planting a kiss on it as he scooped her up by wrapping his free hand around her back and pulling her up to him in one swift motion.

The movement catalyzed her like an antimatter reaction and she exploded in his arms and allowed the passion beating off his body against hers to infuse her, invade her ever crack and crevice, and embrace her. Her lips carelessly tasted his face, pecking first against his chin and then his lips, tasting the flickering tongue that she watched him temptingly dart into his cheek day in and day out. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she impatiently pulled vigorously at the thin polymer material to relieve him of his clothing.

"Easy, easy now," he joked as he broke their kiss and helped her get him out of the shirt.

"I don't want you tearing this one too," he mumbled, burying his lips into her skin. He tasted her breasts, squeezing her nipples between his lips lightly enough to hear her whimper softly and wrap her fingers around his head, pulling him tighter into her. Finally they parted, panting and out of breath, and he picked her up as he stood. Manipulating her tiny body with ease, he moved her towards the bed as she stroked up and down his muscular arms casually, lost in concentration as she took stock of how desperately she ached to feel him inside her once again.

He laid her down on the bed, allowing her legs to spread around his thighs, but instead of climbing on top of her he sat back. A grin crept across his face as he lowered his lips to her soft belly, planting a soft kiss there, gladly lingering to taste her as long as possible. He turned his eyes up at her, the ice in them melting under the fire of lust she felt irradiating from him as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of her blue pajama pants. In one slick motion he pulled them to her knees, then with her help took them off and dropped them on the floor. She gladly allowed him access, opening her legs to him as he leaned forward once again. But he didn't stoop down to her womanhood as she had perceived his intention to be, at least not at first. He moved all the way up her body, leaning against her, and moving all the way up to her face. Taking one last admiringly long look at the angel of a woman—Vulcan—before him, he lowered his lips onto hers and slowly kissed her one more time. He realized he could kiss this woman "one more time" the rest of his life.

He moved back down to her mid section, lying on his stomach and stooping over her white hot womanhood while she watched his every move. He lightly traced the fingers of his left hand over her hip bone, eliciting a soft whimper as her eyes closed in pleasure once more. He tickled that spot above her hip and she bucked instinctively, but he met her hot center midway with a long and succulent kiss that arched her back nearly to the ceiling.

**0235**

Trip collapsed on the bunk next to her, panting into the covers before he could manage to turn himself around. He was next to the wall and she was on the floor-side, so he turned to face her while she faced away from him. Her naked body was covered in sweat, her hair pleated and mussed like he could only once-else recall seeing it before.

"That was amazing," he mumbled as he nuzzled into her neck. He was almost too tired to even plant a kiss as he wrapped his arm around her midsection. With little effort, she settled into his warm body, his manhood softly tickling the inside her thigh as he chuckled.

"Now, we gonna' call that an exploration of 'vulcan sexuality'," he asked carelessly. He mentally kicked himself a second later. Moments of romantic levity with T'Pol seemed so fleeting that the slightest detour meant derailment, and he had hoped to lie here with her for the rest of the night, to share her bed and hold her close again. Even if the morning brought another disappointment…

"I hope not," she replied quietly. Just when he was about to reply in ecstatic surprise, he realized it was best not to spoil it. The last thing he wanted was to shatter a perfect moment with the perfect woman by demanding an explanation he knew she didn't have. Instead, he stroked her chest with the arm he had wrapped around her, and leaned up to tentatively kiss only what he could reach of the corner of her mouth. She took the invitation and turned her face to put her lips completely against his.

The moment was too peaceful, too ideal for either of their better judgments to force her to face the reality of her feelings, because he knew she wasn't ready for that.

At least not yet.


End file.
